Two Black Cadillacs
by Alpha Male Wolf
Summary: Tim and Damian bond over burying a dead body. (Rated T for slight gore and mentioning of murder and character death). One-shot.


**So I'm being lazy again and writing one-shots instead of adding new chapters to other stories. But again, I was going through a Damian Wayne and Tim Drake phase and I had to get it out SOMEHOW, so I wrote a nice little bonding-over-dead-a-body-Fic. Because you know, those two only bond over the weirdest of things. Hope you guys enjoy!**

**Note: inspired by Carrie Underwood's song "Two Black Cadillacs" (hence the title) and I did not proof this 100%- please ignore any typos.  
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**Reviews are loved and hugged.  
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**I do not own any of these characters.  
**

* * *

It was raining in Gotham. Well, actually, it was pouring.

It had been hours since the sun had gone out for that day, leaving the city in a flare of colors from the electric signs reading all different things. Nightlife in Gotham was usually booming, especially during the summer.

But as said before, it was pouring. And instead, the streets were empty, with the occasional sketchy car passing by much too slowly to be doing something legal.

The street lights provided most of the color now, bathing the shinning sidewalks in gold.

A couple of them flickered and faded before growing bright again.

It seemed most of the city was asleep or hidden away until the morning came, and the sunlight would bring some warmth to this dark city.

However, in this dark city, an even dark city was in progress.

* * *

Tim snuck through the bushes that lined a tall gate. It was made of brass, with pointed spears at the top that were rusted over from the years of wear. Mud splashed against the ground as soaked ebony came to the front of the gate. He rattled the two doors, a heavy lock that kept together a chain link keeping them closed. The 16-year old pulled off his backpack and shifted through the supplies.

Rope.

Matches.

An empty bottle of gasoline.

_Bingo._

Tim pulled out a knife and dropped his backpack to the side. He grabbed the lock, narrowing his eyes against the rain as he stuck the blade into it. The ebony jiggled it a bit before yanking it straight up.

As expected, the lock was old enough that it broke into two pieces and dropped into a puddle.

_Splash!_

Tim allowed himself a faint, bitter smile. He then looked back to the hedges.

"Alright, Damian, hurry up." He said in as quiet of voice as he could while being heard over the rain.

It took a couple seconds until there was movement in the ivy bush and a small figure made itself shown. Behind him, a body was being dragged.

In the darkness, it was hard to make out the details of the man. He had tan skin and messy brown-gray hair. Parts of his skin were charred and blackened, while other parts were covered in long gashes. He was missing an eye. He was wearing a messy midnight blue suit, his tie and shoes gone long before.

Tim opened the gate as his little brother made his way safely into the area with the body. He glanced around suspiciously before closing it behind him.

The older caught up to the 10-year old and grabbed the unknown man by the legs so he was off the ground completely. Together, the two trudged across the rows of graves. There was a hill near the end of the yard where a ditch had already been dug. The ebonies didn't share any words and there was no planning of what they were going to do after this. Instead, they were both consumed in their own thoughts.

Their footsteps were lost in the downpour, clothes clinging to their bodies, and mud lining the bottom of their pants and covering their shoes.

Tim was having second guesses about this. Although, it was much too late to go back now. What they had done, it could not be altered or changed. They could not go back in time and change their minds. It was…hard to comprehend too.

The last couple hours were all a blur to the 16-year old. And to think this would be the one thing he and Damian bonded over. Something as cruel as this.

But, at the same time… Tim could not help but feel that it was _right. _After all, they had seen what had this monster do to _him, _it was the only thing they both felt would give justice.

To _him. _

This was what kept Tim going. The fact something like this was so wrong, but so right at the same time. Damian was the only one he knew would go along. In fact, the kid did more than go along. He was useful and helpful from the start. At the beginning the 10-year old had thought he was kidding. But the more they spoke at that funeral, the more they got into the idea. The angrier they felt- not sad. The most blood thirsty and revengeful they got- not grieving. It was an unsettling change. But not one Timothy Drake fought. After all, he had grieved over too many lost friends and family members.

Now it was time for payback.

And for once, there was no one he was happier to do with it. Because Damian felt the same thing he did. Not once did the younger try to talk him out of it. Everyone else would have tried to stop him, to try and let him accept that some other monster had taken away someone he cared about.

But this was not Damian Wayne.

The two came to the ditch. It was on the backside of the hill, under large oak tree. The roots were tangled in the dirt, some lying under the loose mud that they had dug up before.

Damian jumped down, bringing the body down head first slowly as Tim let go of the man's legs. The 10-year old then proceeded to set the carcass face down, hands to both side and legs down straight, in a pencil position.

When he was down, the older pulled him out of the ditch.

The rain had made the soil complete mush under their feet. Some slipped into the grave already, covering spots of the body.

The two just watched.

Tim narrowed his eyes, and realized something.

He wasn't feeling guilty.

There was no ache in his heart for the loss of this life and there was no soul crushing cloud hanging over his head for finishing this man. It was just… silence in his mind.

Tim almost wished there was something. He wished there was some hurt in the back of his mind, something to prove to himself that he was still human and that he could still feel something. But there was nothing for this man. All he felt was the hate and the fear for not feeling anything else but this.

"Drake," Damian said suddenly, bringing the older from his thoughts.

Tim glanced over.

The 10-year old was staring into the grave with narrowed eyes, like the being in the grave was the devil himself.

When the boy spoke, he spoke with conviction.

"You shouldn't feel any guilt for this. What this man did is unforgivable and he deserved what we gave to him."

Tim looked back at the man who was almost completely covered, "Yeah." He then glanced back to his little brother, "Hey Damian."

The younger looked at him.

Tim then spat into the grave and let it hit the body. He then took a handful of dirt and tossed it in.

Damian cracked a grin, "Hm. I'll be seeing you in Hell Drake."

The older grinned back, "I'll be looking forward to it. Let's get this bastard buried."

* * *

Two days later…

"…This just in. The remains of Ivan Isle were found buried in Gotham cemetery. Head of Gotham Police Unit, Jim Gordon, believes that Isle was ambushed in his apartment just days before he went on trial for the murder of Richard Grayson…"

The radio station the only sound as the car hummed on the open highway. Lush green pine trees were on either side of the black BMW, the windows cracked and letting in the warm air.

"…Also an alert for two minors. Timothy Drake and Damian Wayne, both sons of Bruce Wayne, were reported gone two days ago. If you have any information concerning these two, please contact Gotham Police Unit right away…"

A groan from the passenger seat.

"Drake, would you please turn that off? Some of us are trying to get some sleep." Damian turned over in the chair. It was leaned back all the way, and the boy was partly curled up.

Tim smirked from the driver's seat, his hands twisted on the steering wheel.

"Sorry demon spawn, but I need to know when they start looking for us. We need to be more careful."

Another groan.

"Whatever. Just drive."


End file.
